Ending in three or four short spreading points,
constructed to unhorse 
but not to wound the Knight
in the body bent or bowed, in stoop
in my walking things I headed into the snow.

The stains of hunter�s grass,
lest the boy be healed, boy be held in the wash of life,
lost in the hunter�s grass.
Peel fruit to forget, 
or was it stand
in a steel hoop?  

�In them are thousands of dipped oars, lances and bugles.�
�for therein the cottages by lamplight, sharpened weapons were tried.�

I work in my clothes that love you.
Bolt off and paw the ground with
an oxen heart and lung,
washed in the hunter�s grass.